Chapter 91: Ringing Ears

The Jingjiagou threshing ground.

Cao Yao lifted the cloth covering the donkey cart and was beside himself with joy.

The two donkey carts carried only a single cannon — a forged copper-iron breech-loading falconet weighing three to four hundred jin, supplied with six ready-loaded sub-chambers and a basin of water, all ammunition already packed in.

The government troops inside the large compound dared not show their heads, but neither had they given up resistance, loosing feathered arrows outward in random arcs.

Outside, Liu Chengzong's bandit underlings had received their orders: the post-station runners and relay-station troops encircled the compound, while the left and right squads swept through the village, rooting out the government soldiers in every house and cave dwelling.

This bought the cannon-squad soldiers ample time to set up the artillery.

Four crouching-tiger small cannons and one falconet were positioned on the threshing ground. Liu Chengzong, bow in hand, stood outside the main courtyard and shouted terms of surrender.

"Surrender! Leave your weapons and armor, and I'll let you go!"

The two company commanders inside cursed and raged, utterly unmoved: "Dream on! If you've got the guts, fight your way in — your granddads here will never surrender!"

Then — bang, bang — two muffled thuds.

Two cylindrical tubes arced up from within the compound, trailing the acrid smoke and hissing sputter of burning fuses, and traced a parabola down outside the courtyard wall.

One of them landed right at Liu Chengzong's feet.

Before he could even react, Cao Yao slammed into him and sent him flying, catching him completely off guard and hurling him far across the ground.

When he looked back, he saw Cao Yao sprinting, bending low to scoop up the small cylinder where it had fallen, then hurling it back toward the compound even as he threw himself flat on the ground.

Boom!

Almost at the very moment Cao Yao flung the cylinder away, the other cylinder — the one that had landed near the falconet cart — exploded.

Iron pellets shot through the billowing smoke. A mist of blood burst from the cart-pulling donkey's hide, and the two squads of cannon-squad soldiers nearby were blasted into a scattering, fleeing rout.

When the smoke cleared, some had been pierced through with multiple holes; some had taken iron pellets to the face, their features a mangled pulp of blood and flesh; others had wounded arms or legs, collapsed on the ground and shrieking in agony.

A few who had been wearing armor scrambled up from the dirt, clutching their ears, faces caked in ash and dust, utterly clueless as to what had just happened.

For a moment, all was shouting men and screaming horses. The donkey, mad with pain, dragged the cannon cart several paces before collapsing, toppling the cart with it. Sub-chambers and powder kegs crashed to the ground.

The threshing ground was in chaos.

The other cylinder — the one Cao Yao had picked up and thrown at the compound — struck the ornamental tile atop the courtyard wall, bounced back to the ground, and lay there utterly silent.

Cao Yao looked down, searching the ground, picked up a wooden tube, and cursed: "The fuse tube got knocked off. Scared your granddad half to death."

All of this had happened in the span of a few breaths. Just as the explosion of the grenade threw them into disarray, the courtyard gates burst open and the government soldiers came charging out.

They had finished donning their armor.

Archers, shielded by swordsmen and shield-bearers, surged out in small three-to-five-man formations and loosed several arrows in all directions.

Behind them came the loaded firearms — fire-lances, three-eyed guns, and matchlock arquebuses — their lead pellets spraying through the air.

One relay-station soldier, blade raised, charged into the fray, but before he could even reach the shield line, a three-eyed gun thrust out from behind a shield took aim at him. Bang — a cloud of smoke — and the small lead pellets struck his body.

Instantly, the charging figure froze. The saber in his hand clattered to the ground. He looked down at the three or four tiny blood-seeping holes in the robes over his chest, took two slow, staggering steps forward, and then the shield-bearer shoved him aside and he collapsed.

Behind him, the three-eyed gunner, face utterly expressionless, rotated his divine gun and sought out the next target.

For many of the cannon-squad soldiers, this was not their first time under attack by gunpowder weapons.

The last time had likely been at Muxu Gully in the Yellow Dragon Mountains, facing the artillery bombardment of Li Bei's troops.

Terrifying memories surged into their minds — the comrades they had played cards and drunk with, resisted taxes and seized grain with, had died in just this kind of gunpowder smoke, torn apart into unrecognizable, bloody pulp amid the roar of cannon fire.

These memories drove them past the brink of reason. Their legs went weak, and they scrambled madly, desperate to flee the threshing ground.

The post-station runners and relay-station troops were equally panicked. Some men and horses, spooked by the explosions, careened wildly out of control.

Wei Qian'er's first thought was not of fleeing — he had no memory of running away. It was simply that terror had deafened him to all sound, and he could only stare wide-eyed and search frantically.

Searching for one figure.

Many of the post-station runners and relay-station troops were just like him. In the chaos, all anyone wanted was to find a pillar of strength.

A pillar of strength fierce enough, strong enough, to shelter them and keep them alive through the cannon fire.

He found him. Many of the post-station runners and relay-station troops found him.

At the very front line of the battle, pushed to the edge of the threshing ground, behind the four small crouching-tiger cannons arrayed in a row — there stood Liu Chengzong and Cao Yao together, repeating the motion of drawing bow and nocking arrow.

Cao Yao was frantically fumbling with one of the crouching-tiger cannons; its priming pin had not been driven in securely.

He shouted, "Stop shooting — how many can you kill with arrows? Find fire, now!"

Liu Chengzong dropped his bow and arrow and groped wildly over the body of a cannon-squad bandit who had been blown apart, until he yanked out a blood-stained fire striker.

It wouldn't light.

Just then, an artilleryman came running over and thrust a lit fire striker into his hands.

This was utterly baffling — the man had been scared witless.

You're an artilleryman, I'm an artilleryman — you've got a lit fire striker, so go light the cannon yourself!

Liu Chengzong shot the artilleryman an exasperated glare, snatched the ignition source, and touched it to the crouching-tiger cannon.

Boom!

A cloud of smoke erupted from level ground.

Large shot and small shot, wreathed in flame, tore through the smoke and sprayed toward the courtyard wall thirty to fifty paces away.

A large cannonball ripped through a small government-soldier formation, shattering and severing a man's arm, then soared into the sky before slamming deep into the earthen wall.

The small lead pellets burst forth like countless three-eyed guns firing at once, cutting through the ranks of those armored government troops.

The smoke slowly dispersed.

The effect was not as devastating as imagined. Many of the government soldiers' padded surcoats had cotton batting flying everywhere from the hits, but the lead pellets could not penetrate the compressed cotton and then pierce the iron armor plates beneath.

Only a few unlucky ones, struck in the face or wounded in the hands and feet by the pellets, were left hopping in agony on the spot or sprawled on the ground.

Liu Chengzong's ears rang from the concussion.

Cao Yao fared worse. His arm trembling violently, he took the fire striker from Liu Chengzong's hand and muttered a few words through chattering teeth.

Liu Chengzong couldn't make them out either.

He could only watch as, after the cannon-fodder bandit soldiers fled in scattered groups, the cavalry and the relay-station troops were gradually converging toward him.

The two flank infantry squads that had been encircling the government troops in the village were also moving toward the drying ground under the command of Gao Xian and Feng Rang.

They had not yet completely collapsed; there was still a chance to complete the encirclement.

He patted his ear, which was ringing nonstop, and saw that Red Flag had been badly frightened — it came running toward him, tossing its head full of red mane, its large eyes even carrying a hint of reproach.

Wei Qian'er came galloping over with a group of post-station hands. He had just dismounted when he saw Liu Chengzong swing himself onto Red Flag, so he hurriedly remounted and shouted, "Chief! What do we do?"

Then he saw Liu Chengzong riding toward him and was about to ask something, but Liu Chengzong's gaze was not on his face — it was on his rear.

As the two horses brushed past each other, Liu Chengzong reached out and snatched his arrow quiver away.

Liu Chengzong's ears were ringing; he could not hear a thing, and only saw that Wei Qian'er was panicking like a great fool.

Figuring he definitely would not be needing arrows anymore, he came over and took them.

Just as Wei Qian'er was looking around in utter bewilderment, he watched Liu Chengzong take a five-chi short spear from someone else as well.

He hefted it in his hand, measured it against the Company Commander who had charged out from the opposite side to direct the battle, and grinned as he hung it on his horse.

Then he wheeled his horse around to face the government troops surging out of the large compound and patted Red Flag.

The warhorse was galloping. Liu Chengzong wrapped both arms around Red Flag's neck, freed his right foot from the stirrup and swung it across the horse's back, hiding his entire body on the left side of his mount.

A streak of red raced across the drying ground; lead balls and crossbow bolts shrieked past his sides.

The government troops in formation did not notice until seven or eight paces away that this warhorse had no rider on its back. The infantry in formation parted one after another, afraid of being trampled.

At that very moment, a figure suddenly surged up from the left side of the horse's back. The warhorse, as if sharing one mind, wheeled in a sweeping arc, and the rider on its back gripped the short spear in a reverse hold, let out a thunderous roar, and hurled it into the formation!

"Strike!"

The Company Commander in his iron-brimmed helmet with tassel trim was issuing orders when his eyes suddenly widened in terror. In his field of vision, a tasseled spear was coming closer and closer to him, until it nailed him square in the chest.

The spearhead pierced through the armor plates effortlessly, slamming him backward into the infantryman behind him. The strength drained rapidly from his entire body.

He could no longer issue orders. He could only watch helplessly as, in his darkening vision, that cavalryman on the mount with the streak of red mane receded farther and farther away, loosing several feathered arrows into his formation.

Hoofbeats shook the drying ground. The panicked bandit horse teams regained their composure, finished regrouping, and launched yet another charge at them.